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DamnGlitch

Glitch's Intro - NeoSeatle, All over again

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Really, it's like a gunshot wound to the head. Exaggerating? No, not really. I've had a couple of those in my life. Seeing my whole would turn into the shithole I've always feared it would sort of has that effect on me, but that's neither here nor there.

 

I don't give a crap at this point. Why should I? What has this world ever done for me.

 

NeoSeattle, 2030... this isn't a wonderful life, and I don't feel like bailing everyone out. "What would life be life without Gabe?" This is it? Come on, you can do better than that.

 

Whoever rules over the great blue skies, the massive expanse of the universe, the whole of existence--

is a dick.

And he has a really shitty sense of humor.

 

So fuck it. I'm out of here. Next time you see me here it'll be buying my ticket out of the multiverse and back to my own private shithole, about a consciousness above this.

 

-NeoSeattle International Airport, January 20th, 2030

 

 

 

I was watching television in a bar some place in what used to be Brazil. There were only three people in the whole place and two of those people happened to be myself and the barkeep. In my hand was one of those faggot drinks, you know, those gay froofroo girly sugary shit drinks with all the fruit and parasols and crap sticking out of it. I took a sip through the ridiculously convoluted crazy straw idly while I reflected on the past few months.

 

The third person in the bar, a woman who sat about as far away from me as possible while still remaining inside the establishment, was the culprit responsible for me having to choke down the faggot, girly, butt reamer drink. I'm not sure if she thought I was gay, or a woman, or maybe she's a man who got confused but it doesn't matter because I couldn't tell either way through the fog and she/he/whatever hadn't moved an inch since she sent it down nearly a half hour earlier.

 

For once I don't think it was gender confusion on her part. I was wearing a tux, the bar run coming immediately after a wedding I had attended earlier in the evening. It had been fairly posh engagement, if you'll forgive my use of posh in a sentence. Lots of guests, lots of food, big band, everyone nice and photogenic. I didn't know anyone there, not even the happy couple, though I rarely do. I became something of a staple at these sorts of things. I show up, people have a good time. In fact, that's the kind of work I do. I came here to party, and I was so good at it now I'm making a living off of it. The woman I'm living with, Megumi Hashi-yashi-something, acts as something of an agent for me, scouring the daily papers, which remarkably still exist, in search of parties. My name has spread around these parts and people are happy to throw a few bucks my way in exchange for me showing up and chatting with all the young people. There's hardly any old people anymore, at least not here, and certainly none getting married. Divorce rate has plummeted since the takeover. People need to hold onto what they can while they can, lest it be taken away. Needless to say, I was having a blast, but the last few weeks it's all felt more hallow, like something was missing. Of course, something was missing. Many somethings. But that had been the point of this whole trip. Regardless, of that inalienable truth, I felt my stay coming to an end.

 

I glanced back up at the television and nearly fell off of my stool. The screen was filled with green hair, an immaculate suit.

 

And pink, half lidded eyes.

 

I slammed my hand down on the bar.

 

"Who's that on the TV?"

 

The bartender turned to me, confused that I did not know such an elementary thing.

 

"That would be Lady Townshend, Miss Ambrosia"

 

I sank to the floor, my face had to have been ashen.

 

"Lady Townshend?"

 

The bartender nodded back towards the television.

 

"Yep, she's our military Commander-In-Chief of all the world order forces. Has been for the last fifteen years, since Mr. Apath left." He regarded me with an awkward look, "What rock have you been hiding under?"

 

"A big fat one, apparently"

 

I gaped at the screen.

 

"You think you could turn it up? I can't hear what she's saying."

 

The bartender shrugged and pointed a remote at the screen, and the volume increased to a perceptible level.

 

On the screen, Ambrosia gazed coldly into the camera.

 

"In order to preserve the strength of our great united nation, an elaborate combat showcase is being held in our sprawling capital. We are inviting the strongest and the smartest to compete for the title of World Champion and a high ranking position serving the Order within the Military. The winner will be known around the world and immortalized by the Order."

 

An electric shock ran up my spine. That was it. I knew it instinctively. This was the next Battle of The Posters. The Battle had a way of calling participants, leading them to it. I knew that I could find my companions, here in this mirror of my own world.

 

I downed the rest of my concoction, forgoing the straw. It didn't even tingle my throat as it went down. I flipped the bartender a credit and jogged up the stairs and out of the establishment, coat tails fluttering behind me.

 

-Brazil, May 29th, 2030

 

 

The plane set down and I walked out into the terminal. It had taken me longer than I had planned to get my shit together and out of South America. Megumi sprung some debt on me that I hadn't anticipated so I ended up having to scramble to pay that off in addition to compensating her for breaking the lease we had together. She's a shrewd girl.

 

I still had plenty of time to make the sign-up though. I knew this town like the back of my hand so it wouldn't take long to get to the Apath HQ and fill out my forms. Oh, sorry, World Order Administration Building. Whatever. Same difference.

 

I walked from the terminal towards the bathroom. I was wearing a long purple suit with black piping and a smart looking hat of the same color. Black leather shoes. The bathroom was empty, which is always nice, not having to hear some 400 pound baggage handler emptying himself while you do your best not to choke on the smell. I entered one of the handicapped stalls and dropped my bags. With me was a change of clothes, my weapons, and my other equipment. I disrobed and folded my suit neatly to the side of my bags. I slipped into my jeans, and belted them up. Not that I needed to, mind you. They were so tailor fit that I was probably the only person on the planet that could wear them comfortably. From a bag I took a black tank-top and pulled it over my head. Still inside the bag was my trench coat and my armor, but it was so hot out that regardless of my ability to control my body temperature, wearing it would have been more conspicuous than not. That also meant that my arms would be visible, and with them my prosthetics markings. Girls found them interesting and liked to ask about them. Sometimes I would tell them they are tattoos, other times I would say they are evidence of my prosthetics, which confuses them until I give them some line about losing my arms in a war and then they become all cozy and friendly like.

 

I slipped into my shoes, which were the same floppy brand I always wore, except 20 or so generations updated from the last time I had a pair. Luckily, there was a retro fad in right then, so they weren't terribly different from what I was used to. The black velvet gloves I had been wearing with my suit were exchanged for my worn fingerless ones I had been given with my rebirth.

 

Admiring them, I had to stop myself from picturing the woman who had given them to me, and shortly thereafter given herself. I bubble of shame formed in my chest, which I quickly suppressed. I was doing what I came here for and that's what was important.

 

I stuffed the suit into a bag and tossed the duffle which contained my equipment across my shoulder, but not before strapping my heavy sword 'Last Prayer' to my back. In a world where MPBSs walked around with tank cannons fastened to their arms, a sword was surprisingly subtle.

 

Outside the airport I hopped on a lite-rail that had existed where I came from. It had received at least two overhauls since then but it went to the same place,which was all I cared about. Seeing as how important the Administration building was, there was a stop right next to it, which meant very little walking on my part, which was a shame because I always meet the most interesting people when I walk places.

 

The building was surprisingly similar to how I remember it, excepting of course the buildings on either side of it that dwarfed the formerly supreme architectural marvel. I wouldn't have been shocked to hear that they hadn't touched it since I last saw it. The lobby was just as expansive as then, and my shoes made the same clicking sounds as I crossed the distance between the doors and the front desk. The woman there, a temp (it was always a temp) directed me toward some office where I filled out paperwork, answered questions, and had my picture taken. They cut off the top of my head I later found out, much to my displeasure. They gave me some sort of wrist-worn tracking device that would be activated upon the start of the games, which they informed me would be promptly on July 1st.

 

I gave myself a bit of a laugh and made off to the shitty little motel I had booked before take-off. There was no way in hell that my pad would still be around after all these years.

 

As I lay here in bed, writing this... I feel a bit of fear at what's to come. I know that I shouldn't be afraid of fighting, not in this of all places, but the fact that it's here inside of here is what worries me. I don't know what I'll do if Ambrosia figures out I'm here. Or if I somehow run into myself. I'm not sure, I wouldn't think I'd be so quiet for so long while this sort of shit went down, but things aren't right here so there might be something amiss.

 

Anyway, I'll have to update after the games begin. Only a few days left. I can't wait.

 

-Central NeoSeattle, June 25th, 2030

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